Before moving to the States, I didn’t think about my hairy arms. Almost everyone had hairy arms. Nobody really cared so I had no reason to think about them, let alone care.
Shortly after moving to the States, I began to hate my hairy arms [and myself]. I wasn’t normal. Hairy arms weren’t OK. Only pretty girls had hairless arms just like only smart kids didn’t have accents.
Now, I look at my hairy arms and I don’t see ugliness or shame or embarrassment. What I am seeing is that each strand of hair in my arms is like a cute little middle finger, all together saying, “I’m just going to continue with my lack of shit-giving about the American standard of beauty.” So, you know, that’s pretty cool.
Submitted by daniefofanny
